


Needs and Wants

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death reference, Day of Fred's funeral, F/M, Gen, Post-Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the evening after Fred's funeral and it's a pretty mental day. Harry's feeling kinda left out and doesn't know how to cope with the quiet when she says Hi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needs and Wants

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This is my final one for the HPShip weeks, on Tumblr, featuring Harry and Ginny. There has been so much fantastic writing this week that I couldn’t keep up. So, next week, I shall do so.  
> This piece is an outtake from my older fic, Four Days Later, currently posted only on FF.net. This off-page moment is from Chapter 5, when Hermione finds them asleep on the couch the night of Fred’s Funeral. - _DG_

* * *

The house was cold, and entirely too quiet. Molly and Arthur already retired for the evening, probably with the necessary assistance of sleeping potions. But then he didn’t know what happened and could only guess. Instead of joining the family for dinner, he slipped on his cloak and walked out into the Orchard, getting away from the weight of 9 lives resting on his chest. 

No one called his name, at least he heard. No one came looking for him, not his best friends or anyone who cared. The house was too busy coping with bone deep grief, bereaving for their loss. 

For once, the solitude was welcome. At least it was, until the quiet of the orchard smothered him. 

Kingsley stayed as long as politely allowed, and departed when Hermione and Ginny went to care for Molly in the kitchen after she’d broken down. By then the gathering was breaking up, each doing what they could for another who was crumbling under the solemn weight of the day. 

They all departed, some earlier than others. Minerva left almost after the services ended, grabbing a sandwich, courtesy of Fleur, and went back to Hogwarts. Hagrid, however, stayed until the sun crept below the Horizon. He sat talking with Charlie and Percy while George got pissed on Firewhiskey. They kept him company so he would only crawl into his bottle and not into the freshly turned earth further out on the property. 

It was so cold, even with the fireplace burning bright in the dark living room. The flickering light from the burning wood brought the green eyed young man into some contrast. But the shadows danced across his features, in the stillness of the room. He ignored the ham sandwiches on the plate in front of him, laid there hours prior by Fleur who was working in the kitchen instead of Molly. 

He built the fire earlier, needing to do something with his hands, once the rest of the guests departed. 

The fire helped remove the nasty thoughts running wild inside his head, the guilt not quite a comfort tonight. Guilt he could cope with. Guilt was his constant companion since he turned 15, still having the occasional nightmare of bright green light and Cedric falling dead at his feet. 

But now, in the stillness of the house, on such a terrible day, the silence was stifling. 

Everyone else had retired to their rooms an hour earlier, but that was a luxury he wasn’t afforded. He tried the doorknob and found it locked solid, more than likely by Hermione. 

He knew what happened earlier, between his best friends, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else. At least there was a couch for him to crash on tonight, away from Ron’s snores and Hermione’s sleeping sobbing. Emotions conflicted with one another – acknowledgement, jealousy, and even a little relief – that his best friends found comfort and solace with one another. 

At least for one night, they had each other for company. But then he had no one -

“Hey,” a quiet voice drifted from the kitchen. 

Harry turned in the fire lit room and saw her standing in the shadow to the kitchen. Ginny was full of grief, but even this late at night, she was still beautiful. He didn’t need to see her face to know that. But he could easily guess what she looked like, if she looked anything like she did earlier, before he took off for his walk out in the orchard. Her eyes would be full of shadows, prone to looking far away, probably remembering Fred, or their other friends who perished 4 days ago. She’d still be thin, but nowhere as emaciated as Hermione was. Her hair would be clean, washed with the vanilla shampoo her Mum made, but it wouldn’t be full of sunshine and broom oil he loved best. 

Even at her worst, she was still her best. 

“Why aren’t you upstairs in bed?” 

Harry shrugged because he didn’t want to admit what was really going on upstairs in Ron’s room. “Locked out. Probably Ron and Hermione on a crying jag and I wasn’t invited.” 

She walked into the room with two tea cups. Her dress flowed around her legs, giving some shadows to her shape. 

“That wasn’t very nice of them, I reckon.” 

Harry kept quiet but watched her move purposefully, setting the tea cups on the table in front of him. “Listen, about Sunday, I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” 

Harry scooted over on the couch, giving her some room without being too close. Whether it was for her benefit or his, he couldn’t decide. “Yeah, you did, and I reckon I earned it.” 

“You’re not mad?” She asked bashfully. 

“Why? Why would I be mad? You have every right to be upset at me. So much went on and I’m still boggled over things.” 

“But I humiliated you, in front of others!” 

Harry shifted on the couch and looked at Ginny. “Yeah, maybe you did. But after everything else that happened, whose gonna remember that, besides you and me?” 

Ginny inched closer, even if inches were miles between them. 

“So much happened this year, so much that went on without you.” 

“For me too,” he added. 

“I’ve changed,” She looked into the fireplace while ignoring Harry, “and it’s not for the better. Things happened, things that I can’t even explain, to anyone,” she glanced at him sideways, “much less to you.” 

“Ginny, I’m not asking to pick up where we left off.” 

“That’s not what I’m getting at, Harry,” she said forlornly. She wouldn’t look at him, continuing to stare deep into the crackling fire. “This year was the stuff of nightmares. So much happened.” 

Harry sat, hands between his knobby knees and wondered how bad things were about to turn. 

The silence stretched further, like a rubber band waiting to snap. 

“If you’ve found someone else, I get that.” He finally replied. “Things happened and I have no right – “

“It’s not that either, Harry. I’ve not found someone else. I’m not dating someone else.” 

“Oh.” He stole a glance and saw her looking at the fire. Her face was angry, fierce even, like a raging fiendfyre trying to break loose. Terrible thoughts raged in his head, each worse than the last. 

“Do you want me to go? Is that it? I get it if you are blaming me for everything that happened.” Harry hugged himself to ward off the chill in the air. “I know it’s my fault Fred died. So just say so and I’ll leave tomorrow.” 

Seconds passed and Harry started squirming on his end of the couch. “Alright then, in the morning I’ll –“

“No!” Ginny turned and threw her arms around him. The anguish that she’d held in for so long finally broke. “I can’t lose you, not again. Once was bad enough!” 

Harry took her into his arms and let her sob out everything that had happened. Vague words and even stranger wails baffled him, but holding onto Ginny, even in the darkening room, meant more than their first kiss. 

She needed him. He was such a git, feeling fantastic while she felt like dung. She didn’t want him gone, but needed him, for comfort on her worst day. 

She cried and he babbled into her hair. 

Seconds turned into minutes. Harry kept talking, about things that happened growing up, including the few silly moments in his life. As her sobs grew more violent, including twisting his jumper tight onto his skin, he went darker, talking about the harassment and bullying that Dudley and Vernon inflicted on him. His rancor was for Petunia, though, since she stood by and didn’t lift a finger to stop it. 

While her sobs turned grotty, nasty sounding wet sobs into his jumper, he talked about the day he got his letter, meeting Hagrid for the first time, and the joy he felt seeing the castle for the first time. 

Only then did her weeping grow quiet. 

He talked about Ron, being friends with Ron, and seeing the Burrow for the first time. He nattered about spending time here, out in Devon, with his adoptive family, rather than the Dursleys in Surrey. 

Fingers released their deathgrip on his jumper and sloppy sniffing drifted from the wet wool. 

He prattled on, about sharing a room upstairs and learning to eat with someone else’s elbow in his ribs, and that was pretty good. He didn’t even mind being made to do chores for Mum. That wasn’t so bad either. Everything about being here, with family who wanted him, was pretty darn fantastic. 

Yes, it included fighting Ron for the last of the rashers, the ham, and the pudding. 

Ginny looked up from his chest and he could only smile. She looked a complete wreck, from her own crying jag, but even with bloodshot eyes, a bright pink nose and her face more pale than usual, she looked stunning. 

It was the first time in days he saw the spark of life in her eyes. Merlin, how he missed the warmth of those brown eyes. 

“Harry, I – “

“Feel better?” He inquired softly. 

She nodded. “You know, today was pretty mental.” 

He smiled at her shirty comment. “Yeah, I reckon it was. It had to be, for you to cry like that, acting like a girl.” 

“Prat,” she retorted with a gravelly voice. 

“I am, but only for you.” 

“You think we can stay here a while? I’m pretty knackered.” 

“You can kip if you want. I’m not going anywhere, unless you chuck me aside.” 

“Hardly. But it’s not going to be like before.” 

“I don’t expect it to. I figure you want to get to be friends first, especially if I’m as prattish as you say.” 

“Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I can’t, remember? Locked out of my own room.” 

“No, I mean, don’t think that I don’t want you here.” 

“You want me?” 

“Well, yeah. It might take us some time to get there, like those garden gnomes upstairs.” 

“You want that, like them?” 

“Well, we’re not like them, exactly. It didn’t take years for me to figure out who I fancied, did I?” 

“And that’s why I’m the prat. It took a while for me to pull my thumb out.” 

“I’m glad we’re friends,” Ginny whispered before getting comfortable once again. “I’d missed you so much.” 

He couldn’t respond to the unvarnished honesty in her words. Instead, he quickly rearranged his malnourished body on the couch, letting her settle into a comfortable spot. 

“I’m glad you’re still alive.” Harry smiled as he closed his eyes. 

“Me too,” he whispered as her breaths grew steady and deep. Her warmth was what he needed most of all. Eventually, he closed his own eyes, finding her smaller body reclining on his to be what he had missed the most.

The fire burned down, illuminating the sleeping couple on the couch, and continued to sleep until the next morning, covered in the afghan Hermione draped over them during the night.


End file.
